Celestial Bodies
by alternativename
Summary: This was written for something specific - you can read it if you like. Letter's Luna receives from Draco retelling events that took place. Mid-war, not fully DH compatable. Rating there for freedom - thus far all T.
1. Chapter 1

I want the scissors to be sharp  
and the table perfectly level  
when you cut me out of my life  
and paste me in that book you always carry.  
-Billy Collins.

Before.

Dear Celeste.  
It's not often you get such a clear cut sign that your life is about to take another path – or perhaps it's the fact you only know so when you look back on an event & say 'that's the moment, that was when nothing would ever be the same again'. I knew though, I wasn't aware which path I was truly on or where I'd end up after the long arduous journey, but I knew.

That moment in the bathroom was harrowing, Potter was fanatic. All year he'd been dogging me obsessively, which was at first entirely satisfying. I'd spent so much of my time neurotically mapping his movements, desperately trying to knock him from the golden boy perch he ruled from – infuriated at how he could slip through the school rules & come out top every year; getting a chance to feel him at my heels for once, let him taste the bitter realisation that people behaved outside of your control, no matter how hard you pressed in on their lives – but this was different. Potter was furious, desperate to catch me in my plans. At some point our age old school rivalry, stemming from years of tradition and the friendship circles our parents dominated, had materialised into war. I didn't stand for those sly Slytherins anymore, I didn't look like another boy in the halls – I was the enemy & it was tangible the want Potter had for my destruction... It was as if, if he could somehow dismantle me, stop me in my carefully lain tracks, then he was stopping the war. I was the closest he could get to, the stain on my skin & the pride in my name, it was what he could touch and act on. I'll never know if this compulsive analysing of the events are to degrade him or forgive him – but I do know one thing, that I day I knew he was a killer, and perhaps if I think more closely about those glorious moments where my blood ran to mingle with the soiled sodden tiles, I knew that I wasn't. The idea of death never came easy to me, the perishing of others never raised an eyebrow in my life – but no one that vulnerable was allowed near me, I think it was the weight of the Malfoy name and the painfully in vogue style to on have one child to inherit all, that kept the idea of inclement ends out of my peripheral vision.

If I knew you were one for sweet nothings and would accept anything but the truth I'd rearrange these events – I'd put your face and wild mannerism, encased in the mildest of temperaments, at the centre of revelations. It was indeed the sheer magnitude of your quiet gravitational pull that rewrote the history books, but at the axis of any great war & battle against evil: is hatred. That day it was Potter's and even though you were there to see these events unfold, I'll let the past catch up with the present & explain myself and these rash letters.  
Sincerely Wyvern

**A.N. Unfortunately this is one of those stories where you start in the middle & then half of the book you're catching up with it and then the rest you're going on to unchartered territory.****  
****If I didn't make it clear enough, this is a letter from Draco to Luna. I hate it when people change character's name, so please don't assume I am – just remember there is a war about & being to blazé about identity would be foolish. I may tamper with this a little, but I'm trying to show that the next chapters are still in letters & he's telling Luna what happened to him/them.**


	2. Chapter 2

The stone floor felt so cold against my cheek, the blood tainted water running so virulently across the impervious floor I had to snort to keep it from flooding my nose. My vision was compromised, but it had been long before the curse, it was only now that I cared less about my immediate surroundings & the need to just keep myself here in this plane became a struggle. We take it for granted, how easily tied we are to this life no fear of slipping off and away if you don't fight for it. My stress bitten nails clutched at the unforgiving stone tiles, my fingers bending grossly in an attempt to root me here I wasn't ready to go, I wasn't ready to forget. The curse ate at me, dark magic is like no other, a cutting charm will hurt you & without treatment you could bleed to death, but this was a different sort of magic. The stench of evil and anger rose up & fouled the air I couldn't quite keep inside me fermenting in my throat as my aching lungs began to subside into nervous impulses opposed to breath. The pain was unbearable & the only way to escape it was to leave, a thought that grew and slowly enticed me away from survival. It was so silent, as if someone had put my noisy, enduring demise on mute and all was left was the dulled silence of distant thought. Death is in black and white, there's no time for colour even my blood looked like spilt ink writing out my final moments there's no need for last words & legacy, because it's all there in front of you. I didn't mind any more, it was ok that Potter had killed me; I was bested by the best. I was put to an end before I fell in to the dark lord's trap of self preservation and familial attachment no more conflicted turmoil, no more struggles between good and evil, no more bitter realisation that I was no match for path I was set on from birth. I'd be killed by pure evil from the only goodness this world had left, with my blood on his hands Potter would see what he was capable of & end this war before anyone else would be faced with the tasks above my head and then, I was gone.

I wasn't gone; I opened my eyes to the muted darkness of the infirmary. It didn't make sense at first - why heaven, hell or where ever else you went when you die, would look like this. In hindsight, I was probably making a lot of noise. My breathing was still heavily laboured & a number of monitoring spells must have been placed on me, but all I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears. You appeared all of a sudden, dragging back the dull grey curtains that cauterised my bed - moonlight flooding in; illuminating your slight frame. Your eyes were free from the questions and desperation my own silver orbs contained. I drank you in, the way your hips were slung slightly to the side and you terse grip on the heavy drapery... You looked so small, so light - as if without that purchase you'd float up towards the ceiling. I dared you to in my mind - dared you to defy the rules that bound us here. To prove that I wasn't going to stay here, that instead you'd came to guide me into the next journey. I was begging you silently to take me away.

Your gaze was free of judgement, an open genteel face accepting what I needed of you but not being able to acquiesce. The transaction felt like an hour long procedure when honestly it must have lasted merely moments.

I finally scratched out - vocal chords begrudgingly tearing together, damaged by my irregular breathing & the blood I later found out had filled my gullet.  
*I'm still here*  
*Very much so*  
I think I may have swore, I wanted to turn away from you, as if your very existence was teasing me with what could have been. The pain hit me then however, the constriction in my chest, the fire in my stomach & the cold sweat that made my limbs shake impulsively. You moved forward then, trying to ease my pain, take the tension off the shattered skin where the curse hit. I felt delirious again, like I wasn't as close to this realm than I'd been second before. You were calling for someone, but I couldn't really hear - I was going. I just wanted to be free. 


End file.
